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JOHN FOOT, 



LATE CAPTAIN 



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JOHN FOOT, 

BO UN AT THE CITY OF NEW V o UK, 

(Oil % ;}Otlr ^ipril, isa.l, 
DIED ^T aENKV^, 

ONTAEIO COUNTY, 

c^n tl)f l;UI) ^llai'clr, mi. 



^tb |ork: 

VRAN1I9 A LOUTREL, PBINTEUS, HOOKlilNDEKS ANU STATIONKRS, 

45 Maiden Lane. 
1862 



CAPT. JOHN FOOT, 



LATE OF THE 



^umA |icr|'t |Hinur5otii ^'oluutccvs. 



The life of Cjqit. Foot, tlionii'li Ijricf, w:;s so useful, lii^ 
(leatli so lionoral)le, and liis cluiracter so coniniendablo. 
that a memorial of him cannot fail to be a(.'ce})table to a 
large circle of relati\es, and to numy friends who esteemed 
and loved him in life, and lamented him in deatli. His 
example, too, will not bo without its influence on his 
younger brothers, and the youtli of the families of liis 
relatives and friends. It may, also, extend even farther, 
and stimulate some of the youth of our Country to 
ac<[uire, even in early manhood, distinguished names and 
enduring fame. 

John Foot was the son of JSamuel Alkkkd and Jane 
Campbkll Foot, He was born on the 30th of Ai)ril, 1S35, 
ill the City of New Yoi'k, and was tlie eldest of a large 
family of sons and daughters, lie was bai>ti/.ed by the 
liev. W. Vi. riiiLLiPs, Fastor of the First Presbyterian 
Churcli of the City of New York, of which his jtarents 
were then members, on the lOtli of June, 1>!35. The 
elements of his education were ac(juired in that city, and 
maiidy at the (Tranmiar School of the University, of which 
Mr. Lewis IF. lloimv, was the Principal. In the S^tring 
of 1S47, his parents removed from the city to tlie Village 



(if (leiieva. In that villaii'O, Mr. Waltkr T. Tavlok, ke|il 
an excellent Eiiii'lisli and Classical School. Capt. Foot, 
then a yonth of twelve years, entered this school, and 
enjoyed the faithfnl and efficient instrnction of Mr. 
Taylok, from the Spring of 1847 to the Spring of 1S5(). 
By this time he was well advanced in his edncation, 
and nearly prepared to enter Williams' College, where it 
was intended he should receive his Collegiate Education. 
But being considered too young to enter college, and a 
practical knowledge of farming regarded as useful, he 
worked on his father's farm during the season of 1850. 
Early in Novendjcr of that year, he entered the School 
of ]\[essrs. B. F. & J. A. Mills, at South Williamstown, 
Mass., and there completed his preparation for entering 
Williams' College. He entered that College in September, 
1851, and graduated in July, 1855. The subject of his 
commencement exercise was " The Earnest Man."' In 
Septendjer, of that year, he went to the City of !N'ew 
York, and commenced the study of law, in the Office of 
Wm. E. Curtis, Esq., and was admitted to the Bar in 
Decendjer, 1856. lie early exliil>ited unusual adaptation 
for the profession he had chosen, and shortly after his 
admission, entered upon the discussion of questions be- 
fore the Courts usually entrusted to counsel of mature 
years. lie was not loquacious, but rather erred in the 
opposite dii'cction, being, sometimes, almost too chary of 
language fnlly to express his views; and was never 
excited or rude, but, on the contrary, always cool, self- 
possessed and gentlemanly. 

lie had one unusual talent of great value in his pro- 
fession, and that was, remarkable facility for committing 
his thoughts to ])apcr with rapidity and accuracy — often 
writing, in a clear and legible hand, several successive 
pages, with uncommon celerity, without an ungramma- 
tical expression, or erasing, altering, or misspelling a 



word. Thus qualified, lie was, as might well be expect- 
ed, eminently successful in his ]irofessit)n fi)r a new 
beginner. 

lie i)ursued his ]>ri»tessi()n in tlie city till Octubor, 
18G0, M'lieii iiii|)aired health obliged him tt» seek a moi'c 
propitious climate in the West. While on a visit to his 
parents in December, 1859, he took a cold. IFaving 
always enjoyed good health, and I'ully oecu[)ic(l in his 
profession, he did not realize the importance of attending 
to the cold he had taken. A cough ensued, l»ut it was 
not regarded of sufficient consequence to ret pi ire atten- 
tion. The Spring of 18G0 came round, and his cough 
still continued. Having some professional business in 
Georgia, he made a journey there in March ; and, after 
attending to the business in his charge, spent some time 
with friends in Auij-usta. llis couii'h was somewhat 
abated, though not subdued. In August, 18G0, having 
some business at Lawrence, in Kansas, he went there; 
and, after spending a few days in the vicinity, went out 
West on the plains, joined a hunting party, and passed 
a few weeks in hunting buffalo. In the dry and light 
atmosphere of the prairies his cough sensibly diminished: 
but, on his return to the city, his cough also returned 
with increased violence. In the hitter }>art of October, 
ISGO, he left the city for the prairies of the West, in 
accordance with eminent medical advice, lie i»assctl the 
following winter in Western Missouri, and mostly in the 
c>pen air. His health greatly improved, and his cough 
nlmo^t entirely subsided. He regarded himself as well, 
and determined to establish himself and re-commence 
the practice (»f his profession at the West. With that 
view he went to lied Wing, in Minnesota, early in the 
Spring of 18G1, and determined to fix his residence 
there. He made arrangements for renewing liis prot'es- 
>-ion!d busines-, and on tlie l."'tli ot' Aiu-il wa- ;i(liiiitted 



"'us an attorney and counsellor to i)ractice in all the 
Courts" of the State of Minnesota. Soon after this, the 
call (if the President for Volunteers to suppress the 
rebellion and sustain the institutions of the country, 
reached Minnesota. Capt. Foot deemed it his duty, be- 
fore re-coniniencing his profession, to aid in this })atriotic 
work. He soon commenced the raising of a company, 
for which he had been desiguated as Captain. That 
having been accomplished, he was commissioned by 
Governor Ilamsay of Minnesota, on the 31st of July, 
1861, as Ca],)tain of Company 1, in the Second liegi- 
ment of Minnesota A'olunteers. That regiment, after 
l)eing thoroughly drilled for several months, entered into 
active service in Kentucky, in October, 1801. It went 
through an acti\e winter's cam])aign in that State, and 
took a ])rominent part in the battle and xictory of Mill 
Spring, on the 19th of January, 1862. On the 29th of 
that month Captain Foot was ordered to Minnesota on 
recruiting sei'vice. lie repaired to his post of duty, but 
his health rapidly declining, and being no longer able to 
serve his country, he was unwilling to l)e a burthen to 
it, and on the 24th of February, 1862, offered his resig- 
nation, and left Minnesota for his father's residence, lie 
arrived there on the first of March, and e.\}»ired on the 
13th, aged 26 years. His funeral took place and his re- 
mains were interred at Geneva, on Sunday afternoon, the 
17th of March, 1862. 

While he resided in tlic City of Xew York, ho at- 
teiuled the Collegiate lleformed Dutch Church, of which 
the Kev, Dr. Tuomas De Witt is the senior Pastor. He 
was fully aware of his approaching end, and came to his 
paternal home to die. The few days wliich he was al- 
lowed to spend there, wci'c i)assed in gentle and sul)mis- 
sive waiting for his appi'oacliing end. llv M'as jireparcd 
fni- di-ath. lio gave as-uniiice of hisii'n>t in his lu'ilc'cmei". 



and died peacefully. Ills death was not expected so soon. 
The morning that he died, after devotions in his room, he 
rose to dress for breakfast. His brother, Alfred, was alone 
in the room with liiin. While dressing, he was attacked 
with an obstruction of respiration. His brother assisted 
him to his bed. As he lay down, he said to him, in a 
natural and gentle tone of voice, and in a calm and 
peaceful manner, "Good bye,'' and immediately ex}»ired. 
His character and military services, and the sorrow for 
his death, will a})pear in the extracts of letters from sym- 
pathizing friends, in obituary notices of him in the pub- 
lic journals, and in the sermon of the He v. Dr. Wir.Ev, 
which follow : 

From the Rev. Dr. Dk Wht, to the father of the de- 
ceased, March 18, 1SG2. 

" Your eldest son and your first-born has been taken from 
you, just as he was entering upon life, with the develop- 
ment of a fair and excellent character, and with the pro- 
mise of usefulness in his future course. Jlis position, as 
the oldest child in your large family of children, was an 
interesting and important one; but He wlio removed him 
can re])air the loss, by making it productive of spiritual 
and precious fruit to your surviving children. What I 
knew of John, in the occasional intercourse I liad with 
him, led me to esteem him hii;-hly, and to indulge the hope 
that he M'ould prove a blessing and comfort to his parents and 
family. But the Lord has taken him t*) himself, and 1 trust 
that the fruit which was forming on earth, is now ri})ened 
in Heaven. How beautiful are the words of Patl, in the 
12th chapter to the Hebrews, describing the design, pro- 
cess, and fruits of affliction: 'Now no chastening for the 
present seemeth to be joyous, but grievous. Nevertheless, 
afterwards it yieldeth the peaceable fruit of righteousness 
unto them which are exercised thereby.' Your son died in 
a good cause, in jiatriotic devotion to his country. The 
good seed, sown under parental, pious care, aiul in the 
associations in which he was placed, doubtless lodged in 
his mind, and o]>ened his soul to Christ and llca\cn." 



From D. H. Eatox, Esq.. to the p;\ino. April S, 1SG2.* 

"On my return from a tour to the West, I have heard, 
with o-reat j^ain, of the death of 3M-)ur cklest son, wlio lias 
falhMj a martyr in the service of his country, in the early 
prime of life. On my tour I met a young Lieutenant of the 
same regiment as your son, and who was with him in the 
bloody hlattle of Somerset. The Lieutenant bore the 
highest testimony to the courtesy, zeal, and ofHcer-like 
conduct of Captain Foot, on every occasion, and to his 
bravery and presence of mind in that battle. There is no 
young man whose reiinement of manners, high, manly 
tone, and rare moral and intellectual qualities, have won a 
higher place in my respect and regard." 

From Lieut. C S. ITline, to Lieut. Alfred Foot, brother 
of the deceased, dated Columbia, Tenn., March 31, 1862.t 

'• The sad intelligence of the death of Capt. Foot reached 
us a few days before the receipt of your letter. Our Colonel 
saw an obituary notice of him in a New York paper. Let 
me assure you, many a free, happy heart was shrouded 
with sadness and gloom at the announcement. I made the 
statement to his late Company, and many, wliose liearts 
have become hardened at death, wore moved to tears. 
During his term of service he had, by his soldierly bear- 
ing, his eminent qualities of mind and heart, endeared 
himself to the regiment, and all feel his loss; but he was 
especially dear to Company I, who knew him best and 
loved him most. To them his death is a sore affliction. 
To his exertions, his indomitable energy, his unerring 
judgment, his disciplined mind, and perfect self-command, 
do they owe their present efficiency. None knew Captain 
Foot but to love and respect him. When the officers oi' 
our regiment were examined, he received the highest 
])raise, and he received the only compliment paid our 
regiment. All knew his i)ower8 of endurance were being 



■' Ml-. Eatox boarded in tlio sanio hniiso wifli the <k'C(.Tisod, in tho City of JTcw York, for 
scvt'rnl years, and knew liiin inliiTiately. 

I LicMt. Ui.iNK was till' rirst-I.ieutonanl of Conipany I. 2il Minnosotii Volunteers, the 
same Company of wliieli tlie dercascil was Caiitain. 



severely taxed on our niarcli IVoni Leljanoii tu the bat- 
tle-ground, l)ut his exuberance of spirits lulled liis friends 
in security, and to a great extent quieted their anxiety. 
None knew (save one) how fast the poor man was failing. 
I watched over and cared for him the best I could, and fre- 
quently told him 'this is killing you, and you can never 
endure these exertions and liardshi])s.' But, sir, that man 
would have died in his tracks, marchinir on to battle, be- 
fore he would have given up previous to the fight. Nothing 
would have induced him to resiojn or leave us before that. 
You may be assured that this is sad news to me. Ko one 
ever before gained the place in my regard and affection, as 
did Captain Foot. We lived for seven months as brothers. 
and I hoped when he left us that, when this war was over, 
we should meet again, and I should enjoy association with 
him." 

Extract from the Geneva Courier of the 19th Fel)., 1SG2 : 

"We mentioned the other day, soon after the battle at 
Somerset, Ky., that our fellow-citizen, the ITon. S. A. For, 
had three sons in the present war. 

" The oldest, John Foot, is Captain of Company I, in 
the 2nd Minnesota Volunteers, and Avas in the hottest of 
the fight near Somerset. The loss of the regiment in that 
battle was twelve killed and thirty-three wounded. Cap- 
tain Foot's Company lost two killed and two wounded — 
one the Second Lieutenant. Colonel Van Cleve, in giving 
his report of the battle, states that his entire command 
(2nd Minnesota) did its duty 'during the severe and close 
engagement in which they took a part.' Colonel McCook, 
Acting Brigadier, in his report states, that the 2nd Min- 
nesota were within ten feet of the enemy, and at first the 
contest was 'almost hand-to-hand — the enemy and the 2nd 
Minnesota were })oking their guns through the same fence 
at each other.' There are ver}- few instances on record in 
which officers and soldiers have shown an equal amount of 
bravery. The rebels could not stand bclbre it. Since this 
battle and the victory won. Captain Foot has been ordered 
to ^Minnesota to i-eci'uit for his regiment. whi<'h has been 
i-c(lucc(l bv sickness :ind loss in battle." 



10 

?l\tract of u letter from A. ]]. H.vwlkv, M. D., to tlie 
futlier of deceased, dated lied Wing, Minn., Marcli 21, 
1862: 

"The sad intelligence of the death of v<>ur sou reached 
me tliis moniijig, and I write, not only to give \(>n some 
details in regard to the few days he spent here with me 
after his return from Kentucky, l)ut, also, to ex]iress my 
sympathy with 3'ou and your family in the loss of one so 
dear to us all. Ilis death, though sudden, was not unex- 
pected by me. T am coutidcnt, from what passed between 
US, that he was fully awai'c of his condition, lie nc\cr 
said much about his health to any one, but did, on one or 
two occasions, talk freely to me. I was pained to see how 
sick he a})peared when he j-eturned from Kentucky. He 
arrived here oji Monday, February 10th, and on the 21st, 
in answer to in(|iries I had made the previous evening, 
asked me to ex'aminc his lungs. I did so, and told him 
they were l)oth badly diseased. lie then stated to me, that 
he had been convinced for some months that he should 
never recover, and desired to remain here in Minnesota, 
in the recruiting service, as long as I deemed it safe, but 
he wished to go home to die. I urged u])on him the l)ad 
condition of the roads in the Spring, in case the weather 
should affect him nnfavoi'ably. He said Ik- m'ouUI wait a 
few days before he decided, but on Sunday evening fol- 
lowing, told me he was going the next day. 

"I hope these particulars, though painful, will be a satis- 
faction to you as showing, that though he fully realized In's 
situation, with that consideration he always showed, he 
dreaded to foreshadow sori-ow, which he so well knew you 
would soon be called upon to bear. 

" My professional duties prevented me from being with 
liim wdiile he was here as much as I desired. Our intercourse 
was always of the most delightful character — I loved hiui 
as a brother, and I shall ever cherish the rcmendjrancc of 
our mutual friendship as among the precious memories of 
my life. Ilis kindly ([ualities of head and heart had won 
for him many friends here among us, and no one whom I 
ever knew was more resi)ected and beloved." 



11 

FiHtiu his Excellency Alkxaxdeu Uam.say, Governor of 
Minnesota, to tlie same, dated St. raul, March 21, 18G2 : 

""I was pained to learn, ])_v 3-onr favor of the 15th inst., 
of tlie demise of your son, the late Captain of Company I, 
in our Second Regiment. 

"We had hoi)ed, on his return from the Ilegiment, after 
the lirilliant enp;agement at Logan's Cross Iloads, in which 
the Second took, perhaps, the most heroic part, and has 
rendered its name, and that of every member of it, forever 
illustrions, that his health, a})[)arently never very robust, 
would l»e restored, so he might be spared to us for many 
years to come. 

"Captain Foot had already, on his entering the jMilitary 
Service of the Couutry in the hour of its peril, by his m-- 
])ane, gentlemanly manner, and his well trained mind, 
made a very favorable impression on the community with 
which he had cast his lot ; and his zeal and perseverance 
in organizing his Company, at a time when enlistments, 
owing to the season of the year, were secured with great 
difficulty, were witnessed with admiration. And, all honor 
tlie memory of one, whose patriotism prompted him to 
devote his life to so noble a cause." 

The following 01)ituary Notice was publislu'd in the 
princi[)al p>iblic journals of the City and State of Xew 
York: 

OBITUAllY. 

"Died, at the resideiu-e of his fatlier, at (ieneva, IMarcli 
13, 1SG2, JouN Foot, Es(p, of this city. Counsellor at Law, 
son of Hon. Sa:mukl A. Foot, aged twenty-six. The 
deceased raised a Company in INEinnesota, which he led in 
the gallant and memorable cluirge of the Second Min- 
nesota Regiment, at the Battle of Mill Spring. Capt. 
Foot, broken in constitution by the privations and hard- 
shi[)S of the Winter campaign, readied home in time to 
!)reathe his last. Distinguished and successful, beyond his 
vears, in his jirofessiou; lirave and l>eloved as a soldier — 
111' Lia\e liis life to his Countr\-. aii<l his example to his 
co\intrviiien."" 



12 

The following appeared in the State paper of Min- 
nesota— " J7<e Saint Paul P;"<\«^6',"— March 28, 1862: 

DEATH OF CAPT. FOOT. 

" It was annonneed, some weeks since, that Capt. Foot, 
of Company I, Second Ile<i:iment of Minnesota Volunteers, 
liad resigned on account of ill health, and had repaired to 
his paternal home, in the State of N^ew York. We now 
have to convey the sad intelligence to his fellow soldiei's 
and to his friends here in Minnesota, that he is no nioi'c 
of earth. The following letter from his father. Judge 
Foot, a prominent and well knowu citizen of Ontario 
County, New York, brings the first intimation of this 
demise of one of Minnesota's best and bravest soldiers. 
The citizens of Red Wing, and of Goodhue (Jounty 
generally, "where the Captain was best known, will feel, 
upon reading the letter, that the patriotic and Christian 
father scarcely does justice to the memory of his accom- 
plished and gallant son. We commend the letter, however, 
as a specimen of heroic })atriotism that we have not seen 
excelled during the war ; and hence we have solicited the 
])rivilege, and obtained the liberty of publishing it: 

'Geneva, Ontakio CorNTv, N. Y.. ) 
'March loth, 1862. \ 

' THs K.ccellency Alexander Ramsay: 

' Sill — It is my painful duty to announce to you the 
death of my son, John Foot, late Captain of Company I, 
in the Second Regiment of Minnesota A'olunteers. This 
deeply atliicting event occurred on the 13th instant. My 
son reached home on the 1st instant, in extreme ill health, 
caused by the ex],»osure and fatigue of the Winter's 
campaign in Kentucky, and the Battle of Mill Spring. 

"It is consolatory to nie, that his life has been of some 
service to our Country. He was able to do Ins jiart with 
the brave Regiment of which he was a member, at the 
Battle of Mill Spring, where the lines of the rebels were 
first broken, and real success first initiated for the sup- 
]»rc6sion of tin- most wicked I'cbcllioii. Ibid tlio life (»f 



13 

my soil hi'C'ii spare<l, iiis i;0()d I'diication, liiuii (|u;ililic:it ions 
for his prott'ssioii, soiiikI iiK)ral ])n'iu'iplo8 and gentleiiiaidy 
iiiiiiniers, -would liave luadu liini an ornaiueiit to tlic Bar 
and State of Minnesota. But God's Avill be done. It 
seems ordered that tliis dear sonV life ninst he my contri- 
triluition for the maintaiuiinj!: 'of our Government and 
Institutions. 

'If the result sweeps the dreadful Institution of Slavery 
from our Country, no sacrifice can hardly he counted as 
too dear. 

' Kespectfully, your obedient >ervant, 

'SAMUEL A. FOOT.'"' 

From the Geneva CoKricr, of March 19, 1SG2: 

FUNERAL OF CAPT. JOHN FOOT, U. S. V. 

''We little thought a few weeks since, when giving a 
brief notice of the three sons of Judge Foot, in the public 
service, that we Avould be called to uotice so soon the 
death and funeral of the eldest one. He was able to reach 
home, and died at his father's on the 13th instant. The 
Funeral Services were held on Sunday afternoon last, in 
the Dutch Church of this village, and were conducted by 
the Rev. Dr. Wiley, the Pastor of the church. Although 
tlie day was stormy, the church was crowded with a 
deej)ly interested audience. While all the services were 
ap[)ropriate and im])ressive, the Sermon was especially so. 
The large ;iudience listened tt» it with thedee[>est attention. 



14 



^cvmou of the ilcv. J}\\ \\*\U\i 



John xi., 14, li). — Tlieii said Jesus unto tliein, plainly, Lazarus is dead, and 
I am glad for your sake that I was not there, to the intent ye may believe. 

j\<tt]iiiig is uioro natural in cii'ciiiiistanccs i)t* recent 
hereavenient tlian to wisli that matters niiglit have been, 
in some respects, differently arranii'cd and disposed. AVe 
not oidy regret Avitli profound aiul pungent sorrow the 
occurrence of death itself, the Itereavement that has taken 
place, but we imagine that things might have been, Avith 
wisdom, differently ordered from what they were. In the 
sensitiveness of a true and tender affection, we are led to 
ask, with a jealous feeling, whether all has been done that 
might have been done to intercept the event that has 
taken place, and we indulge the iimiginary idea, that if 
certain things had happened otherwise than as they did 
actually ha}>pen, the existing sorrow and bereavement 
might, by possibility, have been deferred or avoided. 
These are the feelings that naturally hang ai'ound us in 
contemplating the removal of our friends. They are the 
almost inseparable witness and attendant of a true and 
tender regret towards those that are called away from us 
by death. The very first words with which Martha 
greeted the Saviour on the occasi<jri of the death of 
Lazarus, were ''Lord, if thou hadd heen Itere, mtj hrothvr 
had not died;'''' attributing the death of her brother 
a})parently to the inopportune or untimely al)sence of the 
Saviour. And so we are apt to say, in similar circum- 
stances, if such an event had not transpired, or if such a 
thing could have been ordained otherwise, the lamented 
issue or occurrence misrht have been different to what it 



15 

is; a> if the I'roN idciicc of G(t(l did iK.t extfiid to ull the 
circiuHstcUices of our personal Iicruaveiiu'iits and atilictions, 
as if Divine Wisdom did not order all the antccad'niU »»f 
death as well as the rc_i>Tetted event itself; as if it were 
not trne of tlir ISaxionrV aicency lierc in all its particulars, 
us well as in other dei)artnients of his action, th;it 'V/Zc 
doeth all th'uxjii well.'" Tlie narrative with which the 
text is connected, is highly instructive and consolatorv in 
this very respect. It presents the Saviour before us as 
having so intimate a relation to the sickness and death of 
Lazarus in all the circumstances of it, as to be highly 
soothing and trancpiilizing to those that are called to 
similar trials, lie distinctly anticipates the occurrence, 
lie hovers near the scene whei'e it transpired, and if lie 
does not actually interpose to })revent it. it is for reasons 
of wisdom that are after made fully to ap])ear. There are 
two thoughts in jiarticular suggested by the iiarrative, on 
which I desire tt) dwell at the present time, as being in 
harmou}- with the present occasion; thoughts that are 
iitted to convey a deeply consolatory impression to the 
mind, uiuler the sense of the recent loss and remo\al of 
endeared relatives and friends. 

I, The lirst thought that is proni])ted l)y the narrative 
before us, is, that the Saviour is thoroiujhlij cognizant of 
the sickness of our kindred and friends^ and full ij antirl- 
pates the issue and event of their disorders. 

We recognize this truth as a ]natter of theoretical 
conviction, as being necessarily connected with the di\im' 
and superior miture which Christ possesses. He. who in 
common with the Father, notices the fall of the >]>arro\v, 
and numbers the hairs of our heads, we may be sure, is not 
)imip})rised of what is transpiring in the way of sickness 
and death within the circles of our households. 

But how nnu-h more vivid and distinct does this truth 
ap})ear in the light of the simple narrative before us :' We 



IG 

luivi' here a li\iiii;- and practical cxeinpliticatioii <it" it. 
The sisters of IJctliaiiy, indeed, in their anxiety and soli- 
citude, and also from a feeble faitli in tlie Saviour's 
t)mniscience, send t(» inform the Master of tlie sickness of 
their brother. l>ut it M'as an unnecessary and gratuitous 
errand, for Clirist already knew of it. It was upon his 
mind as a matter of distinct and tlioiiglitful contemplation. 
lie notes with accuracy, as is apparent from the record 
itself, tlie progress of the disorder, and after the lapse of 
two days. He says to His disciples, with the (juiet assurance 
of one whom nothing could surprise, " Our friend Lazarus 
sleejyeth^ hut I go that I may avKike him out of sleej},-'' and 
immediately bent His steps, that had hitherto lingered by 
the way, towards Judea, and towards the home of the 
aftiicted household. AVho can fail to see in this narrative 
a i)ractical exemplification of the fact, that the Saviour is 
intimately cognizant of M'hat transpires in the way of sick- 
ness, and sufl'ering, and death, within the circle of our 
kindred. AVhat was true of the family of Bethany is true 
of all the families of Israel. He who is the Great High 
Priest of our profession, who took part of our infirmities, 
who bore our sicknesses and carried our sorrows, we may 
be assured, is not unmindful of the domestic troubles and 
atfiictions of His ]>cople. He knows and notes the sick- 
nesses of our kindred, and not a thing that trans2)ires, not 
a circumstance that takes place, is hidden from the obser- 
vation of His benignant eye. In the day of our calamity 
we may be ready to say with the Psalmist, " Why standest 
thou afar off ^ O Lord ■ Why hide st thou thyself in tinw 
if tronhle ?" and when Death a(;tually intervenes, Ave may 
exclaim with the sisters of Bethany, " Ijord, If thou hadcst 
been here, my brother had not died.'' But these are cither 
the natural expressions of a true and tender solicitude and 
affection, or they are the indications of a weak and im- 
])erfect faith, that fails to recognize the ever-}>resent eye, 



17 

the ever-watchful l*rovidencc of our Divine and l)enignunt 
Lord and Master in all onr aiiairs. 

Yeri, it i?; a most consolatory thought, that the Saviour 
knows perfectly the sickness and departure of our kindred 
in all their circumstances — in what is done and what is 
omitted, in what seems propitious and in what seems to be 
untoward and undesirable — in everything, lie is completely 
informed, and his benignant Providence is most intimately 
concerned. 

II. The other prominent thought suggested by the nar- 
rative before us is, that where the Saviour does not inter- 
jjose to inter ce2)t the death of our relatives and friends, He 
omits to do so for the most wise and sufficient reaso7is. lie 
withholds His healing and restoring hand in the exercise 
of a true, though sometimes an inscrutable wisdom. 

This is a very simple truth, but at the same time full of 
consolation to those who are able to realize its im])ort. 
Ordinarily, it is too far out of our reach to be brought 
clearly within our comprehension and intelligence. We 
have to wait the developments and issues of Eternity 
before we are able to get any palpable view of the 
wisdom of the Divine dispensations, especially in the 
form of bereavement and affliction. But how clear and 
instructive does this truth a])pear in the light of the nar- 
rative before ns. AVe see that Lazarus was permitted to 
die for reasons of Divine wisdom, and these reas(.)ns are 
actually disclosed to us in the aftcr-develo})ment of the 
narrative. It doubtless sounded strange to the disciples, 
wliat onr Saviour said to them in announcing, in anticipa- 
tion, the death of Lazarus : " Then said Jesus unto them, 
plwlnltj, Lazarus is dead, and I am glad for your sake 
that I u:as not there, to the intent ye may believe/' It 
must have been a mystery, certainly, to them, liow the 
Saviour could express himself thus cheerfully and con- 
fidently with regard to an occurrence whose natural aspect 



18 

is usually one only of sorrow and distress. But when 
they followed him to the scene of the affliction itself, and 
witnessed wlu\t ti-anspired at tlie tomb of Lazarus, when 
they saw the dead come forth at the word of Jesus, and a 
new lialo of glory to suri-ound the jierson (tf their Master, 
and a new attestation to authenticate and signalize the 
truth of Ilis mission, when tiiey beheld the earnest and 
pledge of the Resurrection and future life in the resuscita- 
tion of the person of Lazarus — the brother of Bethany and 
the friend of Jesus — and saw the palpable proof of the 
power of Him who declared "7 am the Resurrection and 
the Life^^ then the mystery of Christ's words was ex- 
])lained, and the wisdom was vindicated of that dispensa- 
tion that permitted the death of Lazarus. 

It is, doul)tless, true, that we are seldom permitted to 
see for ourselves the wisdom of such dispensations,/^'/' ttv 
walk now hy faith and not hy nujUt. But that wisdom is 
less real in all similar cases of death and bereavement. If 
Christ does not interpose to prevent the departure and 
removal of our kiiulred and friends, we know that he 
omits to do so for the wisest aud best of reasons — reasons 
not now discernable to us, but that shall have their 
development at least in the future life. 

We know that this is so; we have the }iledge of it in 
the little that we are permitted to witness of the ways of 
Providence. AYe have an epitome and illustration of it 
in the narrative before us. It is as certain as that God's 
benignant Providence and the Saviour's gracious rule and 
dominion are connected with all that transpires amidst 
these earthly scenes. 

These reflections, my brethren, are appropriate to be 
made in all the cases that occur of personal bereavement 
and domestic sorrow. They arc especially suitable to be 
indulged in the instances of premature or early death, or 
where, in any respect, darkness and mystery seem to 



19 

hano- around the Divine dispensation. It is southing to 
think, in the hour of calamity and 1)ereaveinent, that the 
Saviour knoM'S our sorrows, that He is present and inti- 
matelj ae(|uainted with tiie sicknesses, and sufierin^^s, and 
death of our friends, and that He withholds His hand from 
their relief only in the exercise of a wisdom and benignity 
that will he made fully conspicuous at last. 

This whole narrative, in fact, is full of consolation and 
support to the atflicted and bereaved in the assurance and 
witness it gives of the presence, and nearness, and interest 
of the Saviour amidst our domestic sorrow. And when 
the finale of the M'hole is brought out to view, and the 
Saviour a})pears in His proper majesty and power as the 
Resurrection and the Life, Avliat a glory crowns the scene I 
What a celestial light irradiates the whole! We seem to 
antedate the liour of the Resurrection, and to have tlie 
future life already brought into being and reality in the 
resuscitation of the risen Lazarus from the Dead. 

I cannot be mistaken in supposing, that it is with more 
than usual sensations of sorrow and regret, that we are 
met together on the present occasion. The shadow of 
death — premature and unanticipated death — is resting 
darkly upon our assembly. Youth, cut otf in its early 
promise and hopeful develoi)ment, suddenly intercepted 
on the very threshold of active Yifc—j)a rental hopes long 
and fondly entertained and just bidding fair to be fully 
realized in a useful and honorable career, blighted and 
dissipated by the touch of death — the ties of kindred and 
the associations of friendship unexpectedly dissolved and 
broken asunder — the silent form of the dead — the subdued 
ami thoughtful congregation of friend> and spectators — 
these are the features that compose the })rcsent scene — 
these are the circumstances under whidi we ai'e ca]le<l 
together to-day. 

Surely we need to take refuge in the persuasion of (iod's 



20 

wise and l»ciiii;ii;uit Providence as l)eii\i; concerned in our 
aifairs. We need to recognize the presence and agency of 
the same Almighty Saviour, who, while on earth, mingled 
in the scenes of l^ethany, and gave the most consolatory 
tokens of his concern and syinj)atiiy in our domestic 
sorrows. 

HISTORY AND CnARACTER OF TTIE DECEASED. 

As the death which has taken })lace has ahont it a 
character of })nl)lic interest, from the personal relations <»f 
the deceased to the service of the country — as the proxi- 
mate causes of it are to be traced directly, if not 
exclusively, to the perils and exposures of the camp, and 
of the hattle-tield — it seems to be only ap})roprlate and 
fitting that some specific reference should be nnule to the 
brief and highly honorable career of our departed friend — 
one among the many soldiers and active supporters of 
Constitutional Liberty in the land. Such a reference can 
hardly fail to be attended with a salutary lesson to the 
young, and to those that are emulous of public virtue. 

Capt. John Foot, of the United States Volunteer Army, 
whose obsequies we are now attending, was the eldest son 
of ills esteemed parents, the Hon. Samuel A. and Jane 
Campbell Foot, members of our church and communit}'. 
lie was born in the City of New York, in the year 1S35, 
if I mistake not, but passed, with his parents, in his bo}'- 
hood, to this place to reside. Here he spent the earlier 
years of his life, preserving a reputable and unblemished 
character during this period, and conciliating the esteem, 
and winning the regards of all who knew him, as well as 
his more immediate friends and companions. After suita- 
ble preliminary pre])aration, he became a member, I be- 
lieve, of Williams' Colh'ge, in INFassachusetts ; from Avhich 
institution, in due time, he u'radiiated witli credit and sue- 



21 

(rcss. After the eumpletion of his acadeinic course, he en- 
tered 111)011 tliG study of the law, and was at length dulv 
juhiiitted as a Member of tlie Bar. He soon commenced the 
l)ractice of tlie law in the City of New York, under very 
favorable ausi)i('es, and had bei^iui already to realize, from 
his steady and successful labors in his i)rofession, highly 
lucrative and })rofitablc returns, when he was suddenly 
arrested by the hand of incipient disease, and compelled 
to reliiKjuish the plans and prospects that had begun to 
open so auspiciously before him. He betook himself, un- 
der medical advice, to the Western part of our Country, in 
search of a }»ropitious climate; and, after a brief interval 
of time, spent, I think, mostly in Missouri, he tinally set- 
tled in one of the prosperous and rising towns of Minne- 
sota. Here he very rapidly regained his health, or seemed 
to do so, and arranged to commence anew the practice of 
the law, with flattering prospects of prosperity and success. 
But, now a new career is suddenly opened before him, and 
with it a new and unusual interest attaches itself to his 
personal history. The standard of Rebellion had been 
lifted up in the land. Treason and insubordination, with- 
out even plausible grounds to su})port them, were aiming 
to subvert the Constitution of our Fathers, and to involve 
everything in reckless confusion and anarchy. The call of 
the (Tovernment sounded out, summoning to its aid tlie 
spontaneous support of Patriot Volunteers, and thousands 
were Hocking to U[)hold the iiii})erilled interests of j)iiblie 
order, and to vindicate the time-honored, but insulted Flag 
of the Union. It was a call not to be resisted by one who 
had been carefully educated in the })riiiciples of Constitu- 
tional Liberty and Order, and who inherited something of 
the Si>irit of the Fathers of the lievoliiticm. Young Foot 
felt and resi)oiided to the patriotic and generous impulse. 
With no reasons of personal need, or other constraint to 
o|)erate upon his mind; with prudential considerations aris- 



22 

in^ out (»r !i scarcely re-established health to check and 
restrain hiiu, he yet seemed to have regarded the call of 
the Country as imperative and obligatory. With no other 
motives, apparently, than such as were supplied by the 
ardor of youthful enterprise and the promptings of a })a- 
triotic spirit, he entered the service of the country as a 
Captain of Volunteers ; and when his Regiment was or- 
dered to Kentucky, the scene, at that time, of most peril- 
ous civil coniiict and commotion, he promptly followed 
with it the fortunes of the war. 1 need not describe to 
you the public features of that campaign. They are so 
recent as to be entirely familiar to you all. The series of 
brilliant successes, that have crowned the Arms of the 
Union in that section of the Country, began with the bat- 
tle of Mill Spring, in which the Regiment to which young 
Foot belonged bore a most gallant and conspicuous i)art. 
"With the successful issue of that first conflict on the soil of 
Kentucky, commenced the happy turn of events that seem 
destined to culminate, ere long, in the complete restoration 
of the ])(»wer of the Union. But, in tlu; meantime, the 
personal and private experience of Captain Foot discloses 
a sad but most heroic record, that remains to be briefly tohh 
The humidity of the climate, the exposures of the camj), 
and the toils of the march, began to show their eflects 
very sensibly upon his feel)le constitution, and it very soon 
became apparent to him tliut his health was likely to be 
totally undermined. But how could he retire iVom the 
service at this most critical juncture? How could pruden- 
tial considerations be listened to when the enemy was just 
at hand? Every thought of self, every considerate regard 
to health had to give way to the point of honor, and to the 
ini}>ulse of patriotism. Tliink of the <[uiet and unct>m- 
]>laining heroism that could still go forward in such cir- 
cumstances as these! Think of the M'eaiy and protracted 
march, the broken rest, the unavoidable and ])crpetual e\- 



23 

[)Osuro to wind ami woatlici-, with an unfcubU-d and mani- 
festly sinkiiio- constitutidii ! Think of the i-xcitcineiit and 
tumult of the l)attl(' that ensued, and of the word of mili- 
tary eommaiul still continuini;- to issue iirmly and steadily 
from attenuated lips, and trom a breast already weakened 
and wasted ])\ the ravages of disease. It was n(»t until all 
these thing-s were gouv tlirough. and the army returned, 
suecessful and victorious to the camp, that our voutliful 
soldier felt himself at liberty to turn his attention to him- 
self. Oh! is there not a record here of nnobtrusive and 
silent heroism, that demands to be known and to be appre- 
ciated ? AVhat can we do less in regard to the youthful 
volunteers, that have entered the service of the Coun- 
try at the })resent imminent crisis, than to bear them 
upon onr prayers to the throne of grace while they live, 
aiid to preserve some grateful memorial of their patriot- 
ism and sacrifices when they eome to die. 

The sequel of our personal narrative can be very briefly 
told. It is told, indeed, more ekxjuently than words can 
do it, in the silent remains that lie before us. Captain 
Foot returned to Minnesota, under instructions to recruit 
his Eegiment, with the faint hope that his declining health 
might yet be retrieved. This h(»pe was, however, soon ex- 
tinguished, and unwilling to be a burthen to a cause 
which he was no longer able to serve, he at once oflered to 
relincjuish his commission, and with all the expedition his 
failing strength permitted, he betook himself to the home 
and refuge of his early childhood ; and here a few days of 
rapid decline termimited a life already shattered and 
broken by the severities of the recent campaign. lie ex- 
pired amid the solaces and supports of earthly friendship 
and love, leaving behind him, to his surviving kindred, 
the sad but proud recollection, that he spent his last 
strength, finnly and faithfully, in the service of the coun- 
try. His earthly record is, that he lived an uiddemished 



24: 

lite, iiiul (lied virtiiiilly and icidly a voluntary sacritico to 
tiie noliie cause of Constitutional Freedom and Oi'der. His 
religious record, besides embracing precious reminiscences, 
upi>re('ial)le only to the eye and perception of dt)niestic 
ami private low, is, that he died a child of the baptismal 
covenant, and a child of parental prayer and hope, giving, 
as liis last utterance, an attirmative response to the proffers 
and promises of a Saviour's grace, presented to him by the 
lips of maternal alfection and faith. 

lluw liKst are tlicy wliose transient years, 

Pttss like an evening meteor's fliglit ; 
Not (lark with guilt, nor <lim with tears, 

Wliose course is short, uncloiideil, brighl I 

CONCLUSION. 

I cannot conclude without a biief adiiu)nition to the 
young men who are here pi'esent. J would >ay in a single 
word, young lutjn, en /lohle life hy honofoble aetivii ! lie- 
nuMuber that it is not the length of life, but the faithful 
fidtilmcnt of its high duties, that is the true and real 
ground of felicitati<m. 

Kur love tliy life, nor hate, bin what tlum livest. 
Live Kell, how long or short |>erniit hy Heaven. 

1 would say csj)ccially, make clear, and bright, and legi- 
ble, i/our religious record. Be soldiers of the countrv if 
neetl be, in her present uig-cnt perils; but above all, be 
Soldiers of the Cross. The kingdom of Christ >hall sur- 
vive all other kingdoms. It shall contjuer death and the 
grave. It has brilliant crowns and mdading lauiels for all 
its true and loyal subjects. 



